The Delicious Relief of Clearing Space
On letting go of what we no longer need, and creating space for the new
For some years, my inbox hovered at 98-99 percent full. Gmail regularly warned me I was on the verge of not being able to send or receive any more emails. Which would lead me to hastily chuck a handful of old ones in the bin.
There was, of course, another solution: purchasing extra storage, for £1.59 a month. Not a huge sum. But paying for the privilege of accruing even more dead wood in my inbox didn’t sit well.
Equally, I couldn’t bring myself to delete all the 35,000 messages taking up residence in one fell swoop. Buried among the many extraneous ones are important pieces of information. Along with nuggets of gold I want to keep forever. Like the exchanges between my husband and I, in the early days of our relationship. Or messages from friends and loved ones who are sadly no longer here.
A few weeks ago, I started a daily practice: five minutes each morning, scrolling through my inbox (starting from its inauguration, back in 2008) and deleting as many emails as I could.
Click, click, click, click….Delete. A slow, laborious process. As well as a rather meditative and satisfying one. And, as the percentage of space available gradually expands, I’m reminded of the value of small, incremental steps. How these can, over time, create big shifts.
At the finale of my five minutes, I get to permanently delete all the items I’ve thrown in the trash. As they disappear into the ether, there’s a delicious sense of lightness and relief.
And releasing what’s no longer needed, or right for us, clears space for the new to enter our lives. Sometimes in ways we couldn’t possibly have envisaged. I’ve had several experiences of this.
Such as, some years ago, when a much-loved pair of jeans had become threadbare, but I clung onto them. Not least as the only comparable replacement I’d found was from Liberty, and cost £250.
The day I finally dropped my beloved jeans at a local charity shop, for recycling, I browsed its rails. And hanging there was the exact pair I’d tried on at Liberty. In my size, and even shortened to my leg length. For £35.
More recently, I had to let go of a yoga class I’d been teaching for almost a decade. Post-pandemic, when people changed their working routines, this once buoyant early-morning class became a shadow of its former self. But I hung on, because I’d always loved teaching it. Plus, I’m that rare person who also loves early mornings, even winter ones; walking through the dark residential streets from my home to the yoga studio, feeling like I had the world to myself.
But last autumn, after several very quiet weeks, culminating in the day I taught to an empty studio, with just one person on Zoom (who refused to put their video on!), I knew it was time to let it go. Within days of doing so, lots of new writing commissions came in, including one from a publication I’d long wanted to write for.
Mere coincidence? Who knows, for sure. But having experienced this pattern again and again, I’ve come to believe that when we release what’s no longer needed, it’s like we’re sending out a sign to the world that we’re ready to receive the new.
As spring finally lands in the Northern Hemisphere, accompanied by its traditions of cleaning and clearing, which ripple through many cultures, including Jewish, Buddhist and Persian ones, it seems like an apt time to reflect on where in our lives it might be appropriate to create some space.
Perhaps, unlike me, you don’t have a bulging inbox! But does anything else feel like it’s taking up unnecessary space? As always, I love to hear from you, whether in the comments, below, or by email.
Love,
Annabel x
THINGS I LOVE RIGHT NOW
TO READ
After reading Dani Shapiro’s novel, Signal Fires, indisputedly my favourite novel of 2023, I took a dive into her memoirs. I loved each of these:
Devotion: an exploration of what spirituality is, by someone who’d let go of her traditional and religious Jewish upbringing.
Still Writing: The Pleasures & Perils of a Creative Life: both memoir and meditation on the artistic process and craft of writing, and filled with wise advice.
Hourglass: Time, Memory, Marriage: a beautiful, raw enquiry into how a marriage is transformed by time and the unfurling of life.
TO WATCH
The reviews for Good Grief, which is on Netflix, were mixed, to say the least. I only succumbed to watching it after a friend, whose taste I trust, recommended it. Set in London and Paris, it’s a visual feast, as well as an unusual take on grief. And as the brilliant Celia Imrie, who plays the main character’s lawyer, wisely says, ‘To avoid sadness is to avoid love.’
TO EAT
Finally, on a lighter note, I think Buns From Home might make the best cinnamon (et al.) buns in town. Luckily, they have several bakeries scattered across central London.
Hi Annabel, thanks for this article, I really enjoyed reading it. It brought back a recent memory of de-cluttering my office with my sister's help (she is a Marie Kondo trained consultant). What we thought would take a few hours ended up taking 15 hours over 5 days (kept plenty of time in the schedule to play). Midway through the process, I received an email from a client I hadn't heard from in ages, requesting a significant contract! Look forward to seeing you at media round table on the 18th! Cheers, Amy
Thank you, Annabel.. loved reading this and reminded of the benefits of practicing Vipassana. See you in a Sunday class soon!